


Stress Relief

by stratumgermanitivum



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Belts, Light BDSM, M/M, Masochism, Painplay, Spanking, dom!Adam, sub!Nigel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 09:51:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16741747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum
Summary: "Would you like to talk about it?” Like this, Adam was hardly going to take him up on it, but Nigel always offered anyway. Better to offer than to have Adam think Nigel was only ever after one thing.“No,” Adam huffed, toeing his socks off and tossing them into their laundry hamper with more force than clothes typically required. When he started reaching for a pair of sweatpants, Nigel placed a hand over his.“Want tonottalk about it?”Adam didn’t get it, not at first. He never did. He turned his puzzled, irritated frown on Nigel. “I just said-”Nigel could practically see the idea click into place. It was fascinating, the way every inch of Adam’s face would relax when understanding settled in. Arousing.“Oh,” Adam said, shoulders easing back from their tense hunch. “You’re asking if I’d like to hurt you.”





	Stress Relief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bigeyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigeyes/gifts), [Ishxallxgood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishxallxgood/gifts).



Adam came home in a Mood, capital ‘M,’ blinking neon sign. This had been known to happen, on occasion. Mostly, he liked his coworkers, but he had at least two who tended to give him trouble, and who, for some reason, Nigel was not allowed to shoot.

One of them was a too-helpful busybody who had a variety of all-natural ‘cures’ for whatever tic or stim she’d honed in on that day. Most of the ‘cures’ were highly potent oils that set off Adam’s sensory issues, or meal trends that Adam couldn’t tolerate the feel or taste of.

The other coworker was just an asshole.

Nigel wasn’t quite sure which of them he hated more, although on days like today, he was tempted to thank them both.

Adam moved through their home like a storm, dark-eyed and wild, a tight frown marring the soft features of his face. Nigel’s cock ached just to look at it.

“Rough day, gorgeous?”

Adam shot him a dirty look and made a noise that was more irritation than any real words.

“Pity. Would you like to talk about it?” Like this, Adam was hardly going to take him up on it, but Nigel always offered anyway. Better to offer than to have Adam think Nigel was only ever after one thing.

“No,” Adam huffed, toeing his socks off and tossing them into their laundry hamper with more force than clothes typically required. When he started reaching for a pair of sweatpants, Nigel placed a hand over his.

“Want to _not_ talk about it?”

Adam didn’t get it, not at first. He never did. He turned his puzzled, irritated frown on Nigel. “I _just_ said-”

Nigel could practically see the idea click into place. It was fascinating, the way every inch of Adam’s face would relax when understanding settled in. Arousing.

“Oh,” Adam said, shoulders easing back from their tense hunch. “You’re asking if I’d like to hurt you.”

\-----  
It started on a bad day. It would not have started at all, if it wasn’t for Nigel. Adam barely sought out human interaction to begin with. He could never have managed the ins and outs of procuring a partner for a ‘scene’ all on his own. Too many complexities, too many ways things could go wrong. People always expected you to be able to read their body language, during sex. They might as well have asked Adam to read ancient Egyptian, for all the good it would have done them.

But somehow, he’d managed Nigel. They’d met, fallen in love. They had, in Adam’s estimation, an active and healthy sex life. Perhaps a bit _too_ active, in all honesty, but neither had any desire to change that.

It wasn’t that Nigel had been disappointed in their activities. He’d been eager to assure Adam of that, later. But there were things he missed, things he still wanted to try. Things he’d never known how to tell Adam about.

It didn’t start with the first melt down, or even the second. No, Nigel had learned him properly first, working through Adam’s fits of overstimulation and anger the way Adam had always been taught. Patience, understanding, stims, quiet rooms. Nigel had always been a fan of the weighted blanket, or the weight of his own body, pinning Adam against walls and down onto the couch when Adam began to kick and flail and lash out at the loud, spinning world.

It was just that, well, Adam tended to be aggressive, when he was melting down. Not violent, not towards another person. He had never hit Nigel. But their things tended to get damaged. Little things, a cup shattered against the wall, Adam’s fist against a mirror, his head smacking against the window pane with a thunk so loud that Nigel had spent the rest of the night checking him for a concussion.

It was not the first melt down, or the second. Nigel’s curious suggestion came after over a year of dating, and months of living together, waking up together, knowing each other in every way and still finding new things to learn.

“We have a lot of nice things now,” Nigel had pointed out, “Including you. You’re a nice thing, that I would like to keep in once piece.”

Adam had been red-faced, ashamed. Not so ashamed that he couldn’t cuddle into Nigel when it was offered, though. He tucked himself under Nigel’s arm, pressed up against him on the couch. There had not been a meltdown that night. Nigel had coaxed him into heavy pressure instead, Nigel’s heat pressed up against his back, while Adam lay face down on the couch, completely submerged beneath Nigel’s weight, sealed in place. The best kind of pressure.

“I don’t mean to,” Adam had whispered, “I just… I lose control. I can’t help it.”

“You can head it off though. Use some coping methods, smash at pillows or your clay instead of our dishes.”

“Sometimes,” Adam had agreed, “If I catch it in time.” He’d looked up, then, and had been surprised to find Nigel avoiding his eyes. Nigel never did that, it was always Adam who looked away. Nigel liked to watch his face, the blue of his irises. Nigel was in love with watching, with staring, taking in every motion Adam made, every little twitch.

But not then. Then, Nigel had been nervous. He’d explained it later. But at the time, Adam had mostly been confused and curious. And Adam never backed down from curiosity.

“What?”

Nigel had flinched at the blunt question, and his face had gone red. “There are other ways to let go of stress, you know.”

“I don’t like yoga.”

Nigel had frowned, his face scrunching up. “No, god, fuck no. I don’t meditate, gorgeous. Not even close. Nothing so peaceful.”

“What do you do, then? To let go of stress?”

Nigel had rubbed at the back of his neck and stared at the ceiling. “It’s not what I _do_ ,” He said slowly, “Not anymore, not when I have you, darling.”

Adam thought that over for a minute, studying the flush of Nigel’s skin, the way his eyes darted around the room. “Oh. You’re talking about sex.”

“Always straight to the point,” Nigel had said, shaking his head and laughing softly. “Yes, Darling, it’s a sex thing. Of a sort.”

“Of a sort,” Adam had repeated, frowning. “Either it’s sex or it isn’t, Nigel.”

“It’s sex,” Nigel had said, sighing, “Sex and violence, darling the two things I do best.”

“Oh.” Adam had thought about that, too, taking his time with it, until Nigel had started to fidget and shift.

“Sex and violence,” Adam had said, mimicking Nigel’s frustrated tone, “You’re talking about sadomasochism.”

“Fucking Christ, Adam,” Nigel had replied, but he’d been laughing when he said it. “You make it sound simple.”

“When sufficiently aroused, the brain can interpret pain signals as something pleasurable. It’s very common, Nigel, many people participate in some form of pain play.”

“Where do you learn this stuff, Adam? I never seem to be able to surprise you.”

Adam had shrugged. “Before you, I had a lot of free time and an internet connection.”

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, baby?”

Adam had hesitated. He tended to say whatever thought popped into his head, but he was learning to be considerate of other’s feelings. He had tried to be gentle when he told Nigel, “I don’t think I would find pain very pleasurable, Nigel.”

Nigel had looked at him, completely shocked. “No, baby, not you. Never you. I don’t ever want to see a mark on your beautiful skin.” Nigel had sounded almost frantic, voice fast, quick. Wanting to reassure. He’d brought Adam’s hands up to his mouth and kissed the knuckles. “But I… I’d like to see what you could leave on me, if you really tried.”

Adam had stared down at their hands. At his own hands, thin, small, soft. At least compared to Nigel’s rough callouses. He had never hit anyone before, at least not in adulthood. As a child, maybe, when overstimulated and too young to know better. As an adult, he would never hurt anyone.

But it was different, if someone asked you to do it. When they gained sexual pleasure from it, relief.

Nigel had taken in his silence, and his hands had clutched tighter at Adam’s.

“You don’t have to, Adam. We won’t talk about it again. I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I shouldn’t have brought it up, I- “

“I want to hurt you.” It had burst from Adam all in a rush, one quick breath, no spaces. Afraid to say it. Afraid not to say it. But he’d pictured it, red marks across Nigel’s skin, his back, the curve of his body. The look Nigel got on his face when he was close to orgasm, from Adam’s hands or mouth or cock or the slicked-up warmth of his body.

Nigel had looked at him like that right then and there, on the couch, eyes wide and wanting.

“Show me,” Adam had whispered.

\-----

“Do you want anything specific tonight?” Adam asked. Nigel smiled down at him, soft and sweet, utterly incongruous with what was about to happen.

“Just you, gorgeous. Just you, and anything you want to give me.”

A stirring of heat lit up Adam’s body. He had been nervous, the first time, scared. But now, he knew what was coming, and he ached for it. He wanted Nigel’s skin under his hands, the gasps and cries he’d make.

“Bedroom,” Adam said, mouth dry, “Make sure all your clothes end up in the laundry basket, or I won’t give you what you want.” Sometimes, Nigel would disobey deliberately, and that was even better. Today, though, Adam wanted him to be good. Maybe Nigel could tell, because he kissed Adam, quick but fierce, licking into Adam’s mouth until Adam’s knees went week.

“Bedroom,” Adam repeated, “I’ll be right there.”

There were rules to doing this, and not just the ones Adam made. After the first time, Adam had looked it up. Nigel had been willing to guide and teach, but Adam thought he should know for himself how someone was supposed to act when they did this.

He needed a clear head. They did this to rid Adam and Nigel both of stress, but he still had to reign in his anger before he struck out at Nigel. Nigel wanted pain, yes, but not cruelty. This was the pain of someone who loved him, who wanted him. It was different. It was the line between sexual violence, and abuse, and Adam made sure to be very clear on where those lines were drawn.

He took his time, nursing a small glass of water until he felt less like he was going to burst. Then, he went to the bedroom.

Nigel had been obedient today. He stood naked by their bed, hands at his side, not a stitch of clothing left lying around the room. Adam was grateful. He would punish Nigel, if Nigel wanted it, but today he’d been looking forward to Nigel’s orgasm.

“Over the bed,” Adam said, removing his sweater and rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down shirt. He wouldn’t take anything else off unless he had to; he knew Nigel liked the feel of Adam’s clothes against his skin, even though the same situation in reverse always made Adam cringe.

Nigel turned and bent himself over the blankets, arms folded under his chin, exposing the curve of his ass. Adam ran one hand down his back, stopping just above the place where Nigel wanted him, and felt all the tension go out of Nigel’s body. It never stopped fascinating him, never stopped being completely arousing. Nigel, under his hands, eager for Adam’s touch.

“What’s your safeword?”

“Darko,” Nigel replied, muffling a laugh into the sheets like he always did. Adam had never met Darko, but he suspected the man would not be half as amused at Nigel’s choice of safeword.

Adam stepped forward to press his clothed hips against Nigel’s bare ass. He took off his belt, watching with pleasure as Nigel moaned at the sound of the buckle, thrusting forward against the bed.

“Not yet,” Adam said, laughing, “I didn’t even hit you yet.”

“Anticipation, darling. You’ve really learned how to set the mood.”

It was a compliment of the highest order, even though Adam still felt like he didn’t entirely know what he was doing. But he liked arousing Nigel, liked the shiver he gave when Adam tugged at his hands until they were braced at the small of his back instead. “I’m going to warm you up, first, “Adam promised, tucking the belt in between Nigel’s fists. Nige gripped it tightly, white-knuckled on the leather. “Don’t let go, until I ask for it.”

“Anything you say, gorgeous.”

“You’re talkative tonight,” Adam mused, running his hand down Nigel’s arm this time, over the bump of his wrist. “I don’t think I want you to be.”

Nigel groaned, ducking his face against the bed. Once, this might have worried Adam, but he knew Nigel’s sounds of pleasure now.

“I want you honest,” Adam told him, “Honest about your pleasure, and demonstrative, but not loud. I can’t handle loud, right now, so if you make my head hurt, I’m going to stop. But I still want to know you’re enjoying yourself. Do you think that can manage that?”

For a moment, Nigel was silent. Contemplative. They had learned, the hard way, that Adam didn’t like obedient words for obedience’s sake. He didn’t want Nigel swearing to something he had no capability to fulfill.

“I can gag you,” Adam offered, “If you think it will be too difficult. But I’d rather not.”

“Then don’t,” Nigel said. “We’ll play by your rules. If it’s too much for you, we’ll stop. I want it your way.”

“You always do, don’t you?” Adam mused.

“Yes, gorgeous, always,” Nigel said, because he knew that Adam was never rhetorical if he could avoid it.

“Alright,” Adam said, stepping back to study his canvas. “Fifteen, first, with just my hand. And then as many with the belt as I want to give you.”

The noise Nigel let out went straight to Adam’s cock, a deep, heady sound. Adam grinned, and brought his hand down against the soft curve of Nigel’s ass.

The first hit was always, in a way, the best, just to watch the shock of it roll through Nigel’s body. He would arch, hips down against the bed, chest raised up, ass presented. He would shiver with pleasure, and then settle back into the bed with soft little twitches as he used his body to beg for more. Adam wanted to give him more.

Fifteen with a bare hand was a bit of a stretch, not for Nigel, but for Adam. Adam preferred the disconnect of a tool, something he could work Nigel over with, hurt him without hurting Adam’s hand and wrist. But Nigel liked the touch, the connection, and it was better to start off slow, anyway.

Adam brought his hand down again, and again. On the fifth stroke, he paused to rub, admiring the way Nigel’s skin had begun to tint, a pink flush of exertion, blood blooming beneath the surface. Nigel moaned and thrust back against Adam’s hand, eager.

“I know what you want,” Adam told him, because Nigel liked it when he spoke, even if he was just stating the obvious. Of course Adam knew, they discussed their scenes all the time.

Adam struck Nigel again, and then dropped his hands to swat at his thighs, varying up his strikes. Nigel took each blow with an eagerness that Adam almost envied. He suspected, though Nigel had never said, that Nigel would have been just as eager to bend Adam over as he was to take Adam’s hand, his belt. Nigel liked to experiment, play around. But Adam was set in his ways, and he much preferred to have Nigel sprawled out and reddened before him.

“Just a few more,” Adam told him, “Just a few more, and then you can have what you _really_ want.”

\-----

Adam was a natural Dom. It had surprised Nigel, at first. He was soft-spoken, a little shy. Not the kind of guy you pictured wielding a flogger. But from the second Nigel had brought him into this world, Adam had been perfect. He could take Nigel apart with just his hands, and regularly did.

Really, Nigel should have known. His baby was a control freak, demanding and impatient in the best ways. And Nigel, though he may have looked tough, was eager to please his darling in every way he could.

Adam wasn’t putting his full strength into the blows. He never did, if he was planning to use the belt. For other tools, for the paddle, Adam could really lay into him with his hand at first, but the belt tore strips of fire across Nigel’s skin, and Adam didn’t like him too worn out before they got started.

“Two more,” Adam warned, and his hand came down again on skin that had already grown sensitive and red. Nigel thrust his cock against the bed, leaking constantly now, eager for a hand or a mouth or just about anything to fuck into. But they were a long way from relief, and on a night like tonight, Nigel wasn’t going to come until Adam was completely satisfied.

The last smack drew another moan from Nigel, and he panted into the bedspread as he forced his body to relax. He wanted to beg for more, to plead until Adam did nothing but put those beautiful hands all over him. But that wasn’t the game tonight, tonight his sounds, his words, were at Adam’s discretion.

Adam liked to be begged, though. He liked to feel desirable, and Nigel was happy to indulge him. Adam drew the belt from Nigel’s grasp and brought his other hand up to Nigel’s shoulders, rubbing gently. Nigel tucked his arms back under his cheek and let out a soft, pleased sigh.

“I would like you to ask me for it,” Adam told him, “This was your idea, and I want to hear that you want it.”

“Christ, Adam, gorgeous, you know I do,” Nigel said, muffled into the skin of his arms. Adam, his beautiful, clever little thing, grabbed a fistful of Nigel’s hair and yanked, until Nigel was looking up at him, head tilted back, throat exposed.

“That’s not what I want from you,” Adam said, with a smile that went straight down into the pit of heat in Nigel’s stomach. “You know what I want from you. You know what’s expected, tonight.”

Adam didn’t like flowery words or porn scripts. He was specific in his desires, but he did have desires, and Nigel felt unbearably lucky every single day.

“I want you to hit me,” He babbled, flushed with his own arousal, with a hint of embarrassment that always crept in the longer Adam stared at him. Nigel had never been shy, exactly, but he knew what sort of things were expected of men who looked like he did, who were built like he was. Who bore scars and tattoos and could have thrown men like Adam across a room. Submission was not one of those things. That was something Nigel saved only for Adam.

Adam, who waited, with no sign of his growing impatience beyond the slight tightening of his grip in Nigel’s hair. Nigel hurried to please him.

“I want you to beat me with your belt, Adam,” Nigel pleaded, “I want you to hit me until it hurts, until I cry. Until you can’t take it anymore and have to fuck me.”

“I’m not going to fuck you,” Adam interrupted, “Not tonight. I had a very long day, and I want you inside of me.”

Well, fuck, Nigel wasn’t going to argue with that. “Of course, darling, anything you want, just please.”

“Please what, Nigel?” When Adam smiled, it was all teeth, a playfulness that he’d slowly developed, that he’d grown into as he learned Nigel, as they learned who they were together.

“Please, Adam, hit me with your belt,” Nigel said again, and Adam kissed him so violently that their teeth cracked together.

There were no bonds, no cuffs or ropes holding Nigel in place. Only the weight of Adam’s demands. And that was not enough to stop him from reaching, from dragging Adam against him with both hands cupping Adam’s face. They kissed in desperate bursts; each time one of them would start to pull away, the other would yank them back in, until their lips were aching and some of Nigel’s overwhelmed desperation had begun to die down. Finally, Adam had to outright shove him, one hand braced against Nigel’s chest.

Adam was a vision, still in his work clothes, the tight sleeves of his button-down shirt clinging to the curve of his biceps, cock tenting his pants obscenely. His lips were reddened and plump, enough that Nigel wanted to nip at them some more, wanted to roll Adam beneath him until Adam whined with pleasure.

But not tonight. Tonight, he was at Adam’s mercy.

Adam’s hands were not gentle as he guided Nigel back down against the bed. He was rough, demanding, pressing Nigel’s chest into the sheets and drawing his wrists forward, until his arms were extended completely across the bed. Nigel clutched at the bedding to keep from moving, drawing in shaking breaths as Adam pulled away.

“Ready?” Adam asked, waiting for Nigel’s sharp nod.

Adam’s hand stung and ached, spread out over Nigel’s ass. The belt was a sharp line of concentrated fire. Nigel choked on a scream when it came down, trying to strangle his own noises, to follow Adam’s carefully dictated rules. He was only marginally successful, judging by the soft snicker from behind him.

Then the belt came down again, and Nigel forgot all about Adam’s laughter in favor of his strength. The third stripe crossed over his thighs, hard enough that Nigel jerked, dragging his cock against the sheets, sobbing out a moan. The fourth hit across his backside again, but the fifth found the crease between ass and thigh with a painful accuracy. “Oh god, Adam!”

“Yes?” Adam said, but Nigel was too far gone to manage any other words. Adam waited only a moment before he struck again, diagonally across Nigel’s thighs, a counterpoint to the first blow he’d landed there. Nigel’s legs collapsed beneath him, but the bed held him up, kept him displayed for Adam.

“You’re so red,” Adam mused, tracing his fingertips across one of the welts he’d left. Nigel hissed and instinctively tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. Adam’s fingers followed him anyway, firmer, reproachful. “You know better,” Adam warned, and Nigel murmured a slurred mess of an apology. He asked for this, after all. He was not allowed to turn it away after demanding it, unless he wanted to safeword. If he submitted to Adam, he was meant to do so entirely.

“I think you’re just about done,” Adam mused. Nigel wanted to argue, but the sound that spilled forth was more of an embarrassing whine than any real words. Just out of sight, Adam laughed again. “I don’t think you’re the best judge right now,” He said. “It’s been a while, and I hit you harder than I did last time. It’s not about endurance, Nigel. Who decides how many you get?”

“Gorgeous,” Nigel mumbled, which was not the answer Adam had been seeking, but clearly pleased him, given how his fingers drifted down to part Nigel’s thighs and tease gently at his balls.

“That’s right,” Adam said, “I decide. But you’ve been good for me, and you can have two more, if you’d like.”

“Please, baby,” Nigel groaned, parting his thighs a little wider. Adam paused, his fingers stilling against Nigel’s sensitive skin.

“Actually, that’s a good idea,” Adam murmured, and before Nigel could ask _what_ , he pressed both of his palms to Nigel’s knees and pushed, pressing him open wide. He lingered there, for a moment, caressing the soft, untouched skin of Nigel’s inner thighs.

Oh. _Oh_. Oh _shit._

“Baby,” Nigel mumbled, desperate to find his voice, “Baby, I don’t think I can…”

“I think you can,” Adam said, a smile in his voice. “And I get to make those decisions. Unless you have something else to tell me?”

His safeword. Nigel always had it, was encouraged to use it if he needed it. In fact, Adam would be upset if he found out Nigel needed it and didn’t use it.

But…

Adam took him a little further every time, a little higher into that soft, fuzzy space where things were beautiful and too-much. And Nigel wanted that. He wanted to press the boundaries of what they did, of these intensely beautiful things they did together.

He pushed himself up on his toes and clutched at the bed, leaving himself exposed for Adam.

Adam let out a rush of breath, relief and arousal in one. “Use your words,” He said, stepping back. “I think I know what you want, but I don’t want to guess. I don’t want to get it wrong. Use your words, Nigel.” He sounded uncertain, unsteady. Nigel had gone from nervous reluctance to shamefully spreading himself, so he could understand the confusion.

“I want you to hit me with your belt, Adam.” The words came easily, now that he’d had a few moments to breathe. “Two more times, on my inner thighs. And then I want to fuck you. Just like you said.”

“Just like I said,” Adam mimicked, the same cadence, the same eagerness as Nigel himself.

There was no warning, only a sudden whoosh of air and then a blazing heat across the inside of his left thigh, harsh and sharp and too-much, for a moment. Nigel didn’t scream this time, didn’t make a single sound, other than a harsh gasp as all the air left him. His hands clenched on the bed, and then released. He burned. He ached. His limbs were a tangle of unbalanced fire, and he was still so achingly _hard_.

“One more,” Adam said, nearly one word, rushed and over-eager. “Just one more, Nigel, okay? Alright?”

Nigel could barely think, but he made himself nod anyway, just to reassure his Adam that everything was fine. Better than fine. Achingly painful, but wonderful.

And then came the last blow, directly opposite the previous, and Nigel lost his mind. He lost everything but the pain, the thick, choking arousal that engulfed him, encouraged his hips to thrust against the bed in exhausted, minute motions. It could have been seconds, or maybe hours, before Adam guided him the rest of the way onto the bed, flipped him over, and straddled his hips.

\-----  
There was always going to be something intoxicating about the power, about the way Nigel folded for him. Nigel, violent and brash, tall and broad, would go to his knees if Adam asked it of him. If Adam _demanded_ it. Adam dropped the belt after the last blow, breathing heavily. Nigel’s skin was a smattering of deep red marks, of slowly forming bruises. There were a few flecks of blood, barely a wound, dotting his backside. They would have to be cleaned, later, but there was nothing that demanded attention right this second, and Adam couldn’t wait any longer.

He left Nigel writhing against the bed, stripping and preparing himself in a messy rush. There was more lube on his thighs than inside of him, and he was barely stretched, too eager for Nigel to take his time.

Nigel was mostly dead weight, at this point, but he went where Adam nudge him. His cock was a deep, angry red when Adam flipped him, glistening at the tip and across his stomach where Nigel had ground down against his own mess. Nigel cried out as his ass hit the bed, but Adam knew better than to apologize. That wasn’t what Nigel needed from him.

Adam crawled over Nigel’s hips and lined himself up, waiting. It wasn’t until Nigel’s eyes tried to find his and Nigel’s fingers reached for his hips that he let himself fall, impaling himself on Nigel in one smooth motion.

This time, they both cried out, Nigel from being forced back against the bed, Adam from the glorious pressure of too much, too fast. Adam liked it best that way, when he was constantly reminded of every inch of Nigel, inescapable and burning hot inside him.

“Knees up,” Adam demanded, and waited for Nigel to obey before he rocked his hips again. “Sit up, hold me.”

It was an awkward position, and it would grind Nigel’s ass against the bed with every thrust. Exactly as Adam wanted. When Nigel hesitated, Adam reached behind himself and dug his nails into the sensitive welt across Nigel’s inner thigh, until Nigel yelped and fucked deeper into Adam in his haste to obey.

Adam closed his eyes and rode out the sensations with tiny little moans, as Nigel maneuvered into position. Nigel clutched Adam close to his chest, bracketing him in with his thighs. Adam could feel him everywhere, inside and all around. It was amazing, arousing, all that skin and pressure and heat.

“Fuck me,” Adam demanded, raising up and dropping back down again, over and over, thrusting his cock in a slick glide against the trail of hair on Nigel’s stomach. His thighs burned, though surely not as bad as Nigel’s, and he chased his pleasure with desperate cries. “Nigel,” He begged, “Nigel, I need...”

Nigel had gotten what he wanted, and Adam had gotten his stress relief. There was no need for pretense, for strict roles. Adam was more than happy to ride Nigel until he was delirious, but what he needed was Nigel’s strength, now, his power.

Nigel pushed forward, sprawling Adam out onto his back on the bed. He fucked into Adam’s body in harsh, deep strokes, and yet even in this, he looked to Adam for his demands.

Adam grabbed Nigel’s ass in both hands, fingers digging into the welts and bringing tears to Nigel’s eyes. “Please,” he whispered, but they both knew it was not a request. Nigel wrapped a hand around Adam’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts, dragging Adam to the edge until Adam sobbed and spilled between them, deep, lasting pulses that seemed like they would never end.

“I can’t,” Nigel groaned against Adam’s throat, “I can’t, darling, _please_.”

“Come,” Adam gasped, one hand reaching up to grip at the short hairs at the nape of Nigel’s neck, the other guiding his hips in rough pushes, “Come inside me, come on, you did good. So good, Nigel, you were a good boy.”

That did it. Praise always did it for Nigel, and Adam would give it to him eagerly, as much as he could without Nigel shying away. Nigel growled and sank his teeth into Adam’s shoulder, rutting into him in short but deep thrusts as he came, sending sparks of overwhelming pleasure through Adam’s body.

\-----

Aftercare had not been Adam’s strong suit, at first. Nigel had walked him through it the first few times, guiding him through the things Nigel needed after a rough session. Now, Adam had it down. He fetched a glass of juice they kept specifically for scenes, a handful of crackers, some wet wipes, and the weighted blanket, all before Nigel could do much more than roll onto his stomach and whimper.

“Not yet, Nigel. You’re sticky.” Adam coaxed Nigel onto his side with gentle hands, rubbing a chilled wipe over the mess across Nigel’s chest and stomach. Nigel hid his face in the blankets, sore and stiff now that his orgasm had left him. “There we go,” Adam said, more to himself than to Nigel, who did not have the energy to care.

Adam draped him in the weighted blanket and then began to poke and prod at his shoulders. “Up, Nigel. You need to drink something, and I need to check your marks.”

“Afterglow, gorgeous,” Nigel complained, “We’ve talked about this.”

“Infection, Nigel,” Adam shot back, propping Nigel up against the headboard and forcing the glass of juice. “Sub drop. Endorphins. I have more words I could list for you.”

“No one ever should have taught you to use Google,” Nigel complained, but he was smiling as he sipped the juice, despite the pain.

Adam grinned at him. “You like it,” Adam pointed out, “You take care of me all the time. You like when I take care of you for a bit.”

Nigel smiled back, over the glass, and reached for Adam’s hand. “Yeah, darling. I like it a lot.”

**Author's Note:**

> A minor edit occurred because Adam took his pants off and then was wearing them later. 
> 
> I've been jokingly calling this fic 'Adam Raki: Accidental Dom' in my head, which, to be honest, is a much better (if slightly less accurate) title.
> 
> I really wanted to play around with the typically expected SpaceDogs dynamic, and it worked a lot better than expected. So I hope you enjoyed Sadist!Adam and painslut!Nigel. I did not expect it to go this well.
> 
> also i didn't used to write smut guys what has become of me????


End file.
